


carve your name into my bedpost

by magnificentmatt



Series: nights spent alone [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fantasizing, Masturbation, Pining, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentmatt/pseuds/magnificentmatt
Summary: Matt spends a night by himself.





	carve your name into my bedpost

**Author's Note:**

> You don’t have to read the first one to read this, but it puts a handful of lines here in a better perspective.

Matt's sure that nobody knows.

Every cautionary measure that there is to take, he's taken it. He has faked crushes on girls that he's never seen as more than a friend, he's pretended to be more upset with Katie than he actually was. Never to her face, though, because she gets this  _look_ on her face when he's mad at her, as if she feels like she's alone in the world, and Matt hates it. He hates when she looks like that, hates even more that he's the one to  _make_ her face that way, so he's always apologizing. He apologizes for stuff that he doesn't find the fault in, just to make it go away. He doesn't mention the fake crushes to her, either, because she gets even  _more_ upset, even though he has no idea why. Probably something to do with the fact that, in her mind, he could go out and get a girlfriend if he really wanted, but all she gets is bullied.

He's never left any physical evidence of his ... _feelings_ , never stolen any of her clothes like a weirdo or scrawled anything into a diary. Any awkwardness that he might exhibit can be easily brushed off as teenage embarrassment, so he should be in the clear. Maybe, with this luxury of having nobody know, he should be using it to try to get over it. Maybe he should ask out those girls that he has fake crushes on or try to get Katie to stop following him around everywhere. But he doesn't, no, instead, he has his hand around his dick while he lies in bed and thinks about her. He's hard without even having done much of anything yet, because he's just that ridiculous when it comes to her.

He would probably feel guilty if this were the first time, but it's not. Now, it's just means to an end - the only way that he can even  _get off_ anymore is with her name unspoken in his throat, and he's a hormonal teenage boy, so of course he can't just go cold turkey. Katie's not any better; he knows that she masturbates sometimes, knows it from the barely-audible gasps that he hears once in a while when everybody else is asleep. Sometimes, he'll just lay in bed with his hand putting pressure on his pajama pants and  _listen,_ as fucked up as it is, because some of her wordless moans sound enough like his name if he imagines hard enough.

Matt wonders how she does it. He wonders if she fucks herself on her fingers, hips raised off of the bed for better access and head tilted backwards, or if she rubs her clit until she comes, bucking into her own touch. Maybe she takes all of her clothes off, or maybe she doesn't - maybe she just slips her hand underneath her underwear and lets her panties get all wet. Matt would  _die_ to watch her fuck herself and make all of those cute noises that he's heard a handful of times before.

God, does he want to touch her. He wants to sit her in his lap, press his nose into her neck and breathe in her perfume. He wants to know what her lips taste like, if they taste like her mint toothpaste that they share or the fruity bubblegum that she's always chewing. He wants to kiss her so sweet and slow, wants to finger her open while he does it and see if she gasps real pretty against his mouth. Maybe she'd moan directly into his ear when she came, and he could leave his fingers in her and feel her muscles contract around them.

He knows that there's no way she has any more experience than her own hand, and even though he's the same, that's reason enough to do all of the work himself. He'd lay her down on his sheets, marvel at the way that her skin contrasts against the blue of his bed. He'd pepper light kisses against her face and neck when she took his cock for the first time, would whisper soft praises and compliments into her ear. He wouldn't do anything without making sure that she knew that he loved her, that he thought she was so perfect, so good. He hasn't seen her naked in a long time, hadn't been paying attention when he had, but he bets that she would look downright beautiful underneath him, blush high on her cheeks and blissed out. He'd leave hickeys on her skin if she let him, gentle reminders of where he had been.

Matt wonders if she would be as direct when it comes to sex as she is when it comes to anything else. Would she be full of breathy demands and hands yanking him around to wherever she wanted him to be? Or maybe she's not a talker in bed at all, as surprising as that would be given how she always seems to have a ramble ready to go. He hasn't heard her say any specific words through his bedroom walls, though, just quiet sighs and whimpers. He bets that he could coax a few words out of her, if he ever had the opportunity, even if they were just his name. He wants to know how she would say his name in that context, pitched and desperate.

Matt presses his head back against his sheets, mouth open in a silent inhalation as he fucks into his hand faster. He can almost hear her in his mind, with senseless whimpers and half-finished sentences. She whines when she doesn’t get what she wants, and he imagines that she makes a similar noise when she gets _exactly_ what she wants.  _Matt, Matt, ah-_

He’d be so gentle with her; he would make sure that she felt good before anything else. He’d use the hand that wasn’t propping himself up to stroke her clit as he thrusted into her, and he’d tell her what a good girl she was when she came around him. Maybe he’d keep going until she came again, shaking and trembling and maybe even begging for it.

God, he loves her.

A grunt forces its way out of his bitten lip when Matt spills over his chest, intense as ever. He keeps thrusting into his hand through it all, until he’s overstimulated and twitchy. When he comes down, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, hard and fast. 

He reaches over to his nightstand and pulls a tissue out of the box, gently wiping it over his stomach. Everything feels ... gentler, now, as if some of the harshness of the day has ebbed away. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to fall asleep without conflicting emotions twisting his gut.

Well, he’d be able to much easier if one of his only pillows hadn’t disappeared a few days ago. He wonders where that went, anyway.


End file.
